Clockwork
by Miss Hal Gibson
Summary: Time wouldn't stop, even for a moment, to acknowledge everything that was wrong. The clockwork would continue, just as it always had. The people affected by its passing might as well not even exist. They didn't exist to time, but it existed to them.


**AN: This is a oneshot I was suddenly inspired to write. I don't have much to say, other than "Enjoy!" :D**

**The Chipmunks and all related characters belong to Bagdasarian Productions. I own nothing.**

* * *

The hours spun by, the fabric of time seemed to be malfunctioning. There was no way precious time could go by so quickly, so casually, as if nothing was amiss.

Time wouldn't stop, even for a moment, to acknowledge everything that was wrong. The clockwork would continue, just as it always had. The people affected by its passing might as well not even exist. They didn't exist to time, but it existed to them.

Time was cruel, but time was precious. It was all they had now. Every moment, every second, was treated as if it were the last.

Because, in truth, it very well could be.

* * *

He always found time such an odd thing. If he awoke a couple of minutes too late, he'd be a couple of minutes late for class, and he would be punished. If he was a few minutes late for dinner, Dave would spend a few minutes yelling at him. Buying time cost time. Sometimes more, sometimes less.

In some cases though, time couldn't be bought. It could merely be wasted, or expire.

In some ways, the beeping of the heart monitor was like the ticking of a clock. He had to be subjected to it during every visit. He hated that sound, but he never wanted to stop hearing it. He wanted the sound to go on forever.

He often found himself staring at the face of the frail, thin child that lay in that hospital bed. The child whose beating heart practically controlled his entire world.

His brother.

* * *

They made their schedule around these visits, as they had for months. Simon always said he didn't mind if they stopped visiting him every day, but they came anyway. Each of them got a turn to sit, a turn to talk. They got a few moments to secure their bond.

During every visit, Alvin saw the fear in his younger brother's cloudy eyes. Simon spoke with bravery, with confidence, but Alvin knew it was all a facade. He saw through every smile, every false glimmer of hope in Simon's voice.

He had given up long ago. As had the doctors, the nurses, their own father. Even Theodore had seemed to lose the hope that had once shined brightly in his innocent eyes.

Alvin felt as if he was the only one still clinging to hope.

* * *

Perhaps it would help if he knew exactly what was wrong. Nobody had ever told him. Nobody ever explained. He was 'too young' to understand.

He understood completely. His little brother was dying, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

He couldn't even remember when it had started. His mind couldn't make sense of it all. Simon had always seemed perfectly fine, nothing seemed amiss.

The first memory of it all that Alvin could place was the night he overheard Dave crying after answering the telephone.

Still, that was a while before Simon had to go to the hospital.

* * *

Alvin closed his eyes. The memories began to flood back to him.

He remembered that night. Simon was reading one of those huge novels of his, the ones with all the big, complicated words that Alvin didn't understand.

Alvin remembered Simon's hands clutching the corners of the book. He remembered Simon's eyes clenching shut. He said he was dizzy, and to get Dave.

Alvin had stood still. He was too frightened to move. He just stood there as Simon began to scream at him, louder and louder, to _"Get Dave!"_

That was one of the most terrifying moments of his life. If someone were to ask him to describe the amount of pain he saw on his brother's face in that very moment, he wasn't sure he'd be able to without doubling over from the sheer emotional pain it caused him to remember it.

Unfortunately, he remembered it very well.

* * *

Simon was admitted to the hospital mere hours after the incident, and hadn't left for more than a few hours at a time since. He hadn't even read since that night.

Alvin felt the time went by too fast. He watched as Simon grew thinner, as his eyes grew more sensitive, as his headaches grew more and more painful.

Usually the visits Alvin paid his brother were spent in partial silence. Alvin, though quite talkative, quickly ran out of things to say, and Simon often felt too sick to speak too much.

During his next visit, though, that was going to change.

* * *

As Alvin walked into the dark hospital room, which was silent other than the beeping of the heart monitor and the pitiful sound of Simon's strangled breaths, he carried with him a book.

The book wasn't for Simon to read, of course. He wouldn't even be able to make out the words at this point.

Alvin was going to read to him.

* * *

The two brother's lightly grasped onto one another's hands as Alvin sounded out the words that littered the pages of Simon's thick novel, the words he could barely understand.

"Uhh...D-du..." Alvin turned the book sideways, his young mind trying to make sense of the letters he saw on the page.

Simon closed his eyes and let out a sigh. "Spell it out..."

"D-u-m s-p-i-r-o s-p-e-r-o." Alvin felt his brother's grip on his hand tighten, and saw a small smile creep onto Simon's face.

"Dum spiro spero. It's Latin." He closed his eyes. "While I breathe, I hope."

Alvin blinked. The clock on the wall ticked, and ticked, and ticked. But the moments stood still. The moments were all they had.

* * *

**That was short, but not...terrible, I think. Thanks for reading!**


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